Page 16 - DFCS News Magazine Spring 2013

ing firepower on foot, all moving out right smartly lest they become guests of the other side. We set aside our delicious "C"rations, and scrambled. The Army sent five Hueys to pick up the ground pounders, but we were their only hope to rescue the two jeeps and drivers. The evacuation pickup point was a 2,000 foot French-built abandoned airstrip, about the width of your driveway, located in the sticks adjacent to a Vietnamese village. So far, so good; we (1ea CH-3C and 5 ea Hueys) landed and awaited our guests' appearance from the bush, hoping they would be wearing US uniforms! After a short and anxious wait they arrived running like they were being pursued by a tiger in heat, led by two trail blazing jeeps that set a new record for opening new roads in an afternoon.
Huey doors were open and our ramp was down, all the personnel side seats folded up against the side of the cargo compartment to accommodate the width of the two jeeps. Without hesitation, the foot soldiers dived into the Hueys screaming "go, go, go!", and our crew chief diving out of the way scream- ing "stop, stop, stop!" as the two speeding jeeps leaped onto the landing strip; the jeep driver's eyes being as wide as big saucers, the drivers proceeded up the aircraft ramp without slowing down, ripped all the troop seats off the side wall and came to a screeching halt with the lead jeep's bumper against the bulkhead behind the pilot and copilot. To compound matters, these two jeeps were loaded with enough radio equipment to give Radio Shack a thrill ... and ... being heavily laden with radio equipment, they grossed out at 2,500 pounds apiece plus driver! Not ...good ... at ... all... for a hoppy copter on a high DA day. The Hueys are off -- and in typical Army style, their pilots grinning at us Air Force types, still
on the ground, trying to unravel the damage and raise the ramp, as they flew off into the sunset. The crew chief hollered, "Ramp is up ... let’s get out of here!". (A moment of digression: this was the only "combat" aircraft in the SEA conflict during this periodthat didn't have armor plating, armament, or self sealing fuel tanks ... just our side arm, M-16, and flak vest on us and one on the seat).
With all this warm feeling flowing under our squadron patch, jeeps loaded with the two drivers still in their seats, power was brought to maximum and the old girl just wouldn't hover. She would become light on the oleos, but the additional radio gear did us in. Next move ... try a running take off to increase the forward speed of the chopper, allowing for additional lift on the advancing rotor blade (translational lift). We started rolling down this French version of a runway, thinking we were going to pull the rabbit out of the hat yet,when, at about 25 knots, just prior to attaining the ability to lift off, the resident Viet Cong "guidance counselor" rounded up everyone in the grass shack village and convinced them, i.e. moms. dads, grandparents, kids, tricycles, etc., that it was in their best interest to gather in the center of the runway in attempt to stop the helicopter from its "running take off", thus holding us for his Viet Cong friends who werehot on our trail. Our problems were multiplying amoebae-like!
Now, with our eyes being as wide as big saucers, we attempted to stop, but could not! I commanded "pull the gear!!" as "CB",my trusty copilot, pulled the gear handle, I pulled up on the collective (that stick on the pilot's left side that makes the houses getsmaller when the pilot pulls up on it), and we barely lifted off, gear retracting, rotor rpm decreasing, blades conning, and the fuselage skimmed over the heads of the reception committee with no inches to spare. We then started to descend back onto the runway in our over grossedchariot. I immediately called "Gear down!", touching down just as the old girl's legs locked in place, and continued our roll with theend of the run- way rapidly approaching -- and decorated with a hedge row! After avoiding a potential international incident, we were about where we started in the "lack of power" department, dictating a call for emergency power if we were going to leave this place. CB shoved the red emergency power levers into override position and spooled those GE T-58's turbines up to a red line over speed whine, returning our rotor rpm. This ... coupled with what forward speed we were able to attain after clearing the heads of the local Chamber of Commerce, allowed us--barely--to become airborne. I immediately called for “gear up" again, allowing us to just clear the hedge row.
While these precarious and successive events were taking place, and the runway reception com- mittee escapade was unfolding before our very eyes in the middle of the airstrip, those two over- zealous and thankful jeep drivers, oblivious to the cockpit and runway activities, were so elated over their rescue, that they were hollering "Hallelujah! ", and at the same time serenading us with a continuous honking of their jeep horns in our ears, all this while we were running a mental gaunt- let in the cockpit! Our crew chief, who sat in a jump seat between the pilot and copilot, was fit to kill, considering that his troop seats were ripped out of the wall and the life of his ear drums had been shortened as he sat in front of the lead jeep. It took us a couple of miles flying right on the deck in Cong Country before we were able to start a climb to an acceptable altitude, hoping the engines didn't decide to depart on their own flight plan. An uneventful return to the Army base
camp at Cu-Chi followed.
We were glad we made it. There was nothing left to consider except how fortune provided a well-coordinated crew and a well-maintained aircraft. And as for the jeep drivers, their "honking" confirmed their religious fervor!
By Al Myers
Colonel, USAF, ret.
Test Pilot-Rotary/Fixed Wing,
ATP, CFII, CFIG, SESP, AGI, IGI Quiet Birdmen
Spring 2013 Issue Page 16